Missing You
by LeilaEditer
Summary: The only thing she cared for was taken. The only thing she loves is gone. She won't stop until she finds him, no matter what the dangers are. She will see his smile again. Oneshot


**Sorry to all those who want a Reality update, the chapter is almost done and ready to be published! And I had this idea, and started writing it, and started loving it, and then I finished it... And now it's on the Internet. I hope you like it!**

**Please review!**

**~Leila**

**And I just found out that my mom's cousin's name is Lincoln and goes by Link. I almost died.  
**

* * *

Zelda Nohansen clutched the paper tightly in her hand. Breathing heavily, she slumped in a park bench. The gray sky above threatened rain, but she didn't care.

16 days. 1,440 hours. 86,400 seconds.

That's how long he had been gone. Snatched from a bus stop, disappeared without a trace. Not a ransom note, no anonymous calls. Just a a few posters plastered on walls around town.

_"Have you seen this child?" _

In the first two days, his name was everywhere. In the local news, on the radio, in every mouth in the state. After those two days, his fame faded. No one spoke of the missing seventeen year old boy. It only took two days for the state to give up. It would take Zelda forever.

She would do anything to see his smile again. That smile that lit up the world and melted her heart. The smile that picked her out of depression after her father's death. The smile she got out of bed every morning just to see.

Gritting her teeth to fight tears, she squeezed her eyes shut and leaned back against the bench. Why him? Out of all people, why him? Who would want to take him, the childish boy who picked the marshmallows out of his Lucky Charms and loved to play Chutes and Ladders and was scared of thunderstorms? Why couldn't they have taken her instead? He was such a better person than her, he didn't deserve this.

She used to push kids for fun on the playground. He used to catch grasshoppers. One time she took one of the grasshoppers and crushed it between her fingers. He had broke down and sobbed in the soccer field. She had never felt worse in her life. Since then she had never stepped on another bug.

He had been there all her life. Though she didn't like him at first. He was the small kid who'd cry if he was pushed to the ground. The crybaby.

Her opinion of him changed one day when she was sitting in time out on the playground. She had pushed a boy off the monkey bars and was sentenced to spend the rest of recess on a bench. Putting on a pouty face and crossing her arms, she was mentally sending every dirty word her eight year old self knew at the teachers. Jerks. Idiots. Buttfaces.

She heard a small noise beside her, and she saw him. Crybaby boy. He was looking up at her with those baby blue eyes, his cheeks slightly red with blush.

"What do you want!" she snapped, turning away with a huff.

"I- I just wanted to say I'm sorry you're in time out!" he squeaked, flinching away.

"That it?" she had demanded, looking at the trembling boy once again.

"And, I wanted to give you this," he said, thrusting a wilted boquet of clovers and dandelions. "And say that I think you're really pretty."

For once in her life, Zelda Nohansen was speechless. She had taken the small boquet from him, and before she could say anything at all, he was gone, sprinting back towards the jungle gym.

Since then, they'd become the best of friends.

She was there for him. She would hold him as he cried through sixth and seventh grade, upset about other kids calling him gay, though they changed their minds in high school when he became attractive and good at sports. She was there for all of his baseball games and even came after he hit a foul ball that gave her a bloody nose. She was there at his older sister Aryll's wedding, walking down the isle with him as a junior bridesmaid.

And in return, he'd been there for everything of hers. Every single one of her dance recitals and competitions, even when he had strep throat. The hospital when she had a concussion. Her father's funeral. When she won second overall at a national dance competition in California last year. Through thick and thin, he had been there for her with a smile on his face and encouraging words.

Their friendship all lead up to the night before _it_ happened, when the two of them were home alone while their parents were out at dinner.

They were sitting on the porch swing, lazily swinging back and forth and talking about what they wanted to do with their lives. They constructed fantasies of going to college together, then buying mansions next door to eachother, and going to the same retirement home.

"We'll raise some hell for those poor nurses!" she had laughed. He had laughed too, his cheerful, lighthearted laugh that she could listen too for hours and hours.

"What about... marriage?" he asked, treading on the subject Zelda had been trying to avoid.

"What about it?" she replied carefully, twirling her ice cubes around her lemonade with her crazy straw. Link always insisted on drinking with the straws that did loop the loops.

"Who are you going to marry? You have to marry someone, unless you plan on being a nun. Or a cat lady," he told her, his face dead serious.

"Well, I- I haven't really thought about it," she stammered, feeling heat rise to her cheeks as he stared at her with his innocent blue eyes.

"Not at all? I have a little bit. See, I-I really like this girl, but I don't really know if she likes me back. I-I actually don't think she does," he admitted.

Her eyes widened, and she felt a surge of jealousy. "W-what? Who is it? Because any girl would be lucky to have a guy like you loving her!" she rushed out before she could stop herself.

"Really?" he asked.

"Y-yeah. You're a good kid. Kind of immature and annoying at times, but sometimes we all need shaped macaroni," she teased, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere.

"It tastes better!" he insisted, turning to face the dark streets. He was quiet for a moment before asking, "Do you like anyone?"

"What's it to you?" she asked hotly, setting her lemonade down and crossing her arms.

"I just want to know, that's all! I didn't mean to make you mad," he said, looking at his shoes. He reminded her of a puppy dog.

"There's a boy," she said carefully, avoiding his gaze, which was suddenly back on her.

"And?"

"He's amazing. The best person in the world. He's nice, and funny, and makes me look like trash," she said wistfully.

"You are not trash, Z," he told her fiercely.

"Try telling that to my parents who keep having to come get me from the office. And the teachers who send me to the office," she sighed, slapping a mosquito that landed on her arm.

"They don't think you're trash. Just... mischievous. There's nothing wrong with that. And I think you're... splendiferous."

"Splendiferous, eh?"

He grinned. "Yup, and fantabulous, and funny, kind of scary, beautiful-" he shut his mouth abruptly and bit his lip, looking away with an embarrassed look on his face.

Her heart fluttered and she turned to face him. "You think I'm beautiful?" she asked quietly.

There was a long pause."Yes," he said, suddenly gaining courage. "Yes I do. I think you're drop dead gorgeous. I think you're perfect. I- I love you," he said with a whisper. She allowed a smile to melt her features.

He thought she was perfect, even after therapy for depression, even after all the trips to the principal's office, even after being the most feared person in eleventh grade. He thought she was perfect.

Acting on impulse, she grabbed the front of his green shirt and pulled him to her. Their lips smashed together in a clumsy attempt at a kiss.

"Well, I don't think you're perfect. I think you need to grow up. I think you're an annoying little kid. But you're my annoying little kid."

And he kissed her again, this time lightly on the cheek.

"And you're my bully."

It was raining now mingling with her tears. The wind bit at her cheeks and ears and whipped her hair in all directions. With trembling hands, she unfolded the piece of paper she held.

There was a picture of a boy. A boy with freckles splashing his cheeks and nose. A boy with golden hair and big blue eyes. A boy with smile brighter than the sun.

_MISSING: Lincoln White_

The boy who always insisted on buying the popsicles with the jokes printed on the sticks.

_Tall, blonde hair, blue eyes. Seventeen years of age._

The boy who still got up on Saturdays to watch Pokemon.

_Last seen at the bus stop at 14th and Main Street._

The boy who loves Just Dance and went to see all three High School Musicals with her in theaters.

_Responds to "Link." If you know anything, please call 777-8899-101._

I will find you, Link, she thought. I will find you. I'll never stop, and I'll never rest until you are safe and I've seen you smile again.

___"Have you seen this child?"_


End file.
